


Take My Hand

by pinstripedJackalope



Series: TSC Challenge Fics [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood's No Good Very Bad Day, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Attempt at Humor, First Meetings, M/M, Men in Black fusion, Pre-Relationship, Spies & Secret Agents, Star Trek References, Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope
Summary: Alec is a man in black having a very bad day.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Everyone, Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood
Series: TSC Challenge Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813831
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fallenhurricane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenhurricane/gifts).



> I STARTED ANOTHER AU CHALLENGE GUYS. The basics are that this fic is the first in a series of AUs that will be based off each other. I'm doing this with @fallenhurricane, so they also have a fic going up. We'll then each choose something from the other's fic to make a BRAND SPANKING NEW AU out of for round two!
> 
> Hope you like this!

*PRESENT*

Today has not been Alec’s day. It really, _really_ hasn’t. Not that many days are. It’s just that today has been _exceptional_ in the screwing Agent A over department—a department that he’s started to suspect actually exists somewhere in the Clave’s quasi-governmental hierarchy—and it doesn’t look like it’s going to end any time soon. Not if the outstretched hand in front of him has any say in it.

The outstretched hand doesn’t waver, waiting patiently for Alec to take it. Alec glares at the warm brown fingers as they wriggle enticingly, before raising his gaze to the golden-green, slit-pupiled eyes that are watching him. 

“…Come on, Alexander,” the klowrac says, his voice low and soft. “You can trust me.”

Alec bites his lip, closing his eyes. How did he get here? How did this happen? What went _wrong_?

…Oh, right. It all started with a sinkhole.

*NINE HOURS AGO*

“You’ve got some, ah, mud. On your shoes.”

Alec grits his teeth, sliding gingerly into the passenger seat of their Clave-mandated car. He knows about the mud on his shoes. And on his pants. And on his jacket. And in his mouth. He leans over and spits out of the open car door, nose wrinkled.

J, in the drivers seat, smirks over at him—the bastard is spotless, as always. Not a single blond hair out of place. Z, similarly unblemished, is lounging in the back seat in her heels. She reaches forward with a handkerchief, waving it until Alec takes it. He drags it down his face, cleaning the mud from his eyes.

It was an ant alien colony. Not Alec’s favorite, but they’re better than the arachnid aliens they dealt with a few years ago. Still bugs, though, and everyone knows that bugs are undoubtedly the worst.

Today’s atrocity was a tunnel system under a nearby city, one that strayed too close to the surface and caused a massive sinkhole. It was accidental, but someone still had to go underground and investigate the cause while the other two dealt with leading the human civilian evacuation. Alec, of course, was chosen to go into the mud.

He sighs, nodding at J to get going as he tries to hand the handkerchief back to Z. They’ve missed the morning brief, but if all goes well they’ll get a reprimand and then Alec can slink off to shower and lick his wounded pride.

Which of course means that all does not go well. They’re barely two feet in the door when Agent H is taking them to the briefing room. They weren’t assigned a mission today because they missed the usual briefing and assignation, which means they’re the only ones available to take care of the latest case that’s come in, one that has arrived in the form of a short girl with fiery red hair and an equally fiery expression on her face.

“Go get a change of clothes,” Z says fondly as Alec stares the girl down and the girl stares right back up at him. “We’ll take her statement, no problem.”

“…Fine,” Alec says, backing up. He resolves to take as little time as possible—J and Z are both brilliant, capable people, and as such he doesn’t trust them to get anything done when they are on their own together. At least, not using proper protocol. Last time he wasn’t there to supervise they found a way to hook up a dynamic neutrino-slingshot to a mega-collider and blew a fuse at Agency HQ. That was _not_ fun to clean up. It solved the spider problem, but god, at what cost?

The cost of having 0-ranked Clave officials up his ass for weeks, is what.

Anyway. The civilian girl. Alec expects a typical statement from her—a standard alien sighting, through and through, solved with a quick memory wipe and nothing to fuss over. Which of course means that by the time he washes his hair in the changing room’s sink and gets on a new suit, J and Z have teased out a story of not only an alien sighting but also an _abduction_ , on _top_ of which they’ve figured out that the girl has been memory-wiped multiple times growing up and—get this—there’s absolutely no record of her even existing, let alone having come in contact with aliens or the Men in Black before.

So that’s off to a great start.

“I want my mother back,” the girl—Clary, she calls herself—all but demands. “You people know something—help me find her!”

Alec can physically see J caving and plants his heel on his partner’s toes. J has a soft spot for a pretty face—but this is above their pay grade. Not that they’re paid much of anything at the Agency. Point is that they need to bring this up with higher ranked Agents.

They start with Agent H, their teacher and trainer. He sends them to Agent 64, one rank above him. Agent 64 sends them to Agent 7, one rank above _him_. And Agent 7… well. She sends them to the Brothers.

“Don’t be afraid,” J says to the girl, leading her into the Silent Room. “They’re like… medics.”

Alec could snort—J was terrified of the Brothers until halfway through his training. Not to mention the fact that the Brothers aren’t really ‘medics’ at all—they deal with engineering and reverse-engineering biotech. Still, Alec lets the two of them have their heterosexual moment, standing aside with Z and only tapping his foot impatiently after the comforting has dragged on for more than five minutes. J gives him a glare over the girl’s head, but they all turn toward the far doors as one.

The news from the Brother who examines the girl is… not great. Her memories have been wiped by Agency tech, that is confirmed—but they’ve been replaced by false memories implanted by a telepath. The only person who can remove them safely is the telepath who implanted them, the telepath whose signature is all over Clary’s mind— _Magnus Bane_.

And just when Alec was starting to think they’d be able to help this girl after all.

*SEVEN HOURS AGO*

“Absolutely not.”

J bristles at Alec’s side. “But—”

“This girl is not to be allowed outside of our walls until she’s been thoroughly questioned and her answers deemed adequate to release her on a probationary basis.”

Before J can open his mouth and fight the Scribe, Alec takes his partner by the elbow and leads him out of the room, followed by Z and Clary.

“What the hell?” J asks. 

Alec points him toward a chair. “You’re getting too involved.”

J rolls his eyes. “That’s our _job_ , A—”

“No, our job is to follow protocol. We’ll contact the klowrac, this Magnus Bane, and set up a meeting. In the meantime—”

“My mother is _missing_ ,” the girl suddenly says, cutting him off. “We don’t have time to wait for this guy—we need my memories _now_.”

“Yeah, A. Get with the program,” J says. 

Alec grits his teeth, ready to argue, but Z is already winding her kevlar whip under her jacket sleeve, ready to go. Alec is outgunned here—either he lets them go alone, and watches the fallout from a distance, or he goes with them and tries to do damage control before the fallout happens.

Not much of a choice, really.

Alec sits in the backseat of the car with Z, glaring out the window. It doesn’t take long to get to their destination—the party, literally, is already in full swing.

“I hate this,” Alec says, sliding out of the car. He glares when a civilian boy pops up out of nowhere to stand with Clary as if he was waiting for them. That’s going to be another mind to wipe after all this is over. 

“We know,” Z says back, straightening her jacket. Her heels—non-regulation stilettos—clack on the pavement in time to the thumping beat of music drifting down from the loft above them. 

Clary looks up at the building. “Wait, so what’s a klowrac, again?” she asks. 

Alec huffs. “Alien-human hybrid. Depending on their lineage they can be quite powerful. Watch out—Bane is one of the strongest we know of. He’s High Klowrac of Brooklyn, and he has a… reputation.”

Clary, stricken, starts muttering with the other civilian.

They get to the door moments later. J impatiently rings the buzzer, until Alec catches his hand. It takes a long moment, but eventually the door is opened by…

Well. The photo in his file does NOT do him justice.

Alec stands back as Z hands over an invitation she got from god knows where, but he can’t help it as he watches the klowrac’s eyes flit back to his more times than necessary. Alec swallows. He… doesn’t like that look. Flirting is one thing—attachments and lovers are quite another. It’s a violation of their contracts to get involved with anyone who isn’t another Agent. 

He pushes past the slit-pupiled eyes that watch him, pushing into the party. He leaves J and Z in control of the two civilians and heads toward the bar at the back of the room, looking to gather some reconnaissance on Bane before they face him for information on Clary’s memories.

It doesn’t take long, as he’s accosted by Bane himself not four minutes later.

“So. What brings all you lovely Agents to my neck of the woods, hm?” the klowrac purrs, leaning in and pushing a sparkling drink over to Alec. 

Alec raises his lip in distaste. Bane is half Betazoid—he’s strong, and perceptive, and he’s probably reading Alec’s thoughts right now.

Bane laughs. “I’m sorry, I can’t turn it off. In the meantime, won’t you tell me your name?”

“Agent A,” Alec says.

“No, sweetheart—your real name.”

Alec grits his teeth. He knows this game—he’s been trained to resist it. _You won_ _’t be getting my name from me any time soon_ , he thinks.

The klowrac eyes him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “…If that’s how you’d like to play it,” he says.

Alec nearly growls, annoyed at the blood pumping through his cheeks. “Enough. We’re here to speak to you about the memories of Clarissa Fray. We expect your full cooperation.”

“Oh, _fine_ ,” Bane says, and beckons him down the hall. Alec gets J’s attention, jerking his head—the others follow him as he follows the klowrac into one of the bedrooms there, the three agents, the klowrac, and the two civilians huddling inside. Z sets a silencer down in the door, and the room goes blissfully silent. So silent, in fact, that Alec can suddenly hear scratching at the window.

Bane’s eyes go wide. “Oh! That’s Chairman Meow! It’s his birthday party, you know,” he says, going to open it. A tiny fluffball that Alec guesses must be a cat jumps in, meowing indignantly. Alec spies a charm hanging on the cat’s collar—a galaxy, if he’s not mistaken.

He whistles. That’s impressive. 

…Less impressive is the fact that Magnus can’t get the memories back, either. At least, not all at once, and not very fast. Alec sighs. He still has the grit of mud on his skin and in his hair, and they’ve broken protocol at least six times already, and J is leaning with Clary over a memory-stimulating device that’s supposed to help her wash away the fake memories and recall the originals and by _god_ he just wants some down time and a god damn _shower_ —

—which is probably why he nearly breaks a lamp when he feels deft fingers in his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone.

“Oh, darling. Look how battered this poor thing is,” Bane tuts. Alec snatches it back, glaring at the klowrac, who shrugs a shoulder. “I was only going to give you my number. Is that such a crime?”

“This is official Clave-mandated technology,” Alec says. “You don’t touch this.”

Bane waves a hand, glitter falling from his sleeve as he goes. “Playing hard to get? Well, suit yourself.”

Alec blinks. Then, quite involuntarily, his cheeks flood once more with red. _Get it together, Alec_ , he thinks, dragging a hand through his hair.

 _Alec, hm?_ a different voice responds.

Alec freezes. Telepath—he forgot. Not good, not good. “ _Get out of my head_ ,” he barks. Perhaps a bit too sharply, if the way that Clary and J stop peering at the device and turn to look at him is any indication.

Bane squints his cat-like eyes, a slow smile crawling across his face. He looks awfully pleased with himself, especially as he says, _I won_ _’t tell anyone your secret… Alexander._

God. Damnit.

Thankfully, they do learn something, in the end—that Clary’s mom has been taking Clary to Bane for years to help her cover incidents of aliens and Agents finding them. How she came by a Clave-grade neuralizer, no one knows… until, at least, Z suddenly sits up straight where she’s planted herself on Bane’s bed and gasps.

“What if your mom was an Agent?” she asks, turning to Clary.

“No way,” J says. “No one gets out unless their memory is completely wiped.”

“But what if she did?” Z insists.

Alec stares at her. “…What do you mean?”

“I mean… what if she was Agent F?” Z asks.

J scoffs. Alec, however, is playing a letter game with the name Jocelyn Fray—Fray, Agent F, it must mean _something_. He looks at Clary, taking her in in a new light. If her mother was Agent F… then her father…

“We should have never left the Agency,” Alec snaps, going to grab Clary by the arm. The civilian boy—Simon or whatever—yelps and tries to jump in front of her.

“Hey! Relax, dude,” J says, also coming to the girl’s ‘rescue’. He’s so gone for her that it’s painful.

Alec stares at him. “You do realize that if Z is right, this girl is Agent V’s daughter, don’t you? She can’t be trusted—”

“That was a long time ago, A,” J says. “Agent V is long dead. We can trust her.”

“Can we?” Bane asks, butting in. He shrugs when all eyes in the room turn to him.

Alec sighs, pinching his nose. 

This is when all three of the Agents’ cell phones give off a sudden alarm.

Alec grits his teeth. “The Agency grid has gone down,” he says, and glares pointedly at the girl. 

“But—there’s no way,” Z says. “That grid has never gone down. Not in the last hundred years.”

“Well, it’s happened now,” Alec says. He pushes his way past all of them, going to the door. “I’m going back. We need to help get it back online, before something even more serious happens.”

He’s out the door without waiting for a response.

Thankfully, everyone follows him. Alec leads them down to the car, grunting as they all cram in, even the civilians and Bane. 

*FOUR HOURS AGO*

The Agency, when they get there, is dark. For the first time since… well, since _ever_ , the building is without power. It’s a dark monolith in the street, doors locked, no movement visible. Outside, they find a tracker ankle bracelet, dark and broken.

“Oh, Agent H…” Z says.

“What? What happened?” Clary demands.

Alec tunes J out as he explains to the uninformed that Agent H used to be a member of a band of Agents once called the Circle. They were anti-alien and anti-klowrac, and they let their views be known. Agent H turned on his fellow Circle members after massive bloodshed, when the Circle leader, Agent V, was presumed dead… though no body was ever found. As penance, Agent H was stuck training new Agents for the rest of his life, despite the fact that all he ever wanted was to have his mind wiped and be returned to the civilian population.

“He’d only do this if Agent V was still alive,” Alec says, pointedly, after the tale is done. “And if Agent V is still alive…”

Clary flinches. “I didn’t even know my father!” she says. 

Alec grunts, gesturing for J to give him a boost up to a second-story window. “If you want us to believe you, then help us get the power back up,” he says.

So she does. She helps them sneak into the building, helps Z rig up a circuit bypassing the damaged fuses in the basement, and helps J reset the external protection grid before anyone else can get inside. 

Which is all well and fine. They face no repercussions from the upper Agency Ranks for their earlier disobedience. The Clave is thrilled that the daughter of Agent V ran off from the Agency despite direct orders not to do that.

Not.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck here,” J says, flipping a neuralizer in his hand, his sunglasses pushed up into his blond hair. 

“Yeah, and that we got a lecture from the Inquisitor herself,” Z says, twisting her whip on her wrist.

“My mother is still missing,” Clary says. Her civilian friend hums in sympathy.

Alec sits back, silent, staring stonily at the far end of the room. Bane, beside him, is equally silent, though Alec can feel a slight pressure as if Bane is reading his thoughts as he has them. He cuts his eyes to the side, glaring. Bane smiles, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Well, your mother isn’t going to rescue herself,” J says suddenly, standing up. He straightens his suit jacket and reaches a hand out to Clary.

“You’re kidding me,” Alec says, turning his glare on them. “After all of this, after Agent H and the party and the _Inquisitor_ , you’re just going to go gallivanting off _again_?”

J pretends to think, a smirk curling across his lips. “…You’ve still got mud on your shoes,” he says. Then he smacks Alec on the shoulder, grabs Clary by the hand, and gets to work on the lock on the door, followed quickly by Z and the civilian boy.

Alec groans. This is not happening. This has really, really, _really_ not been his day. He presses his palms against his eyes, dragging them down his face until he sees…

…a hand, outstretched toward him. It doesn’t waver, waiting patiently for Alec to take it. Alec glares at the warm brown fingers as they wriggle enticingly, before raising his gaze to the golden-green, slit-pupiled eyes that are watching him. 

“…Come on, Alexander,” the klowrac says, his voice low and soft. “You can trust me.”

Alec bites his lip, closing his eyes. He thinks about mud, and breaking protocol, and the Agents—his partners—that are like siblings to him. He thinks about Bane, about his flirtations, about Agency contracts and regulations. He thinks about himself, about the desires he’s been pushing down for years and years and years. And he decides… well… what the hell. 

Alec takes the hand, a small smile slipping past his defenses.

**Author's Note:**

> Klowrac is an anagram of warlock! Also if you can spot the Star Trek reference lemme know, haha.


End file.
